


you made my heart a hunter

by la_victorienne



Category: Glee
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne
Summary: And Blaine comes and kneels in front of Kurt, his chin turned up, his eyes closed, and well. That’s something Kurt didn’t realize he wanted.





	

It doesn’t start as ritual, or tradition, or habit. It just starts after the first time, when Blaine is getting dressed again, and he can’t get his bow tie to sit quite right.

“Come here,” Kurt says, sitting on the bed, watching Blaine watch himself in the mirror. “You’re twisted in the back, that’s the problem. I’ll do it, if you want.” And Blaine comes and kneels in front of Kurt, his chin turned up, his eyes closed, and well. That’s something Kurt didn’t realize he wanted. He makes a note to sit on it for later, and takes a moment just to look down at Blaine, savor the feeling.

He straightens the tie quickly and kisses Blaine’s upturned mouth. “Come on, we have things to do, people to see, parents to convince we haven’t been doing exactly what we’ve just been doing.” He’s tempted, briefly, to change his mind when he stands up and Blaine is still there, his eyes slightly opened, lips parted—but no. Time and place, Hummel, he reminds himself. Time and place.

 

***

 

But then there’s Cooper. And Blaine looks at him the day after his brother leaves, and Kurt can see it, and Kurt can feel the ache. “Please,” Blaine says, sitting him down, with printed pages and well-thought arguments. “Please, Kurt, I think I need this.”

Kurt stands up from the bed and turns away, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “I’m not saying no, I—I have something to show you, actually.” In his bag is a folder of his own, with everything Blaine has already found, and more. “I thought we could start simple, if we started at all—maybe I could tie your wrists to the headboard. Is that—this is what you want, right?”

Blaine nods so quickly Kurt thinks his head might fall off. “This is exactly what I want, Kurt, please.”

Kurt smiles and kisses Blaine briskly, his hands around Blaine’s wrists, squeezing ever so lightly. “Good. Now what I want you to do is take off your shirt and lie down on your stomach. Also, I want you to have a safe word by tomorrow.”

Blaine gets up and takes off his shirt, looking slightly confused—but he’s doing what he’s told, which Kurt is already proud of. It’s a soft flush, suffusing his body, a warm sense of _good, right_. When Blaine is sprawled across the bed, his arms up and his hair coming loose in the pillows, his breathing starting to even out in relaxation, Kurt moves.

“You look so lovely like this, Blaine,” he murmurs, throwing a knee over Blaine’s back and sliding his hands up the skin and muscle. “You’re just the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, you know.” He starts to knead Blaine’s shoulders, dropping kisses along his neck as he goes. “And you look like that all the time, to me. You shine, to me. Brighter than anyone. Brighter than Rachel Berry.” Under him, Blaine huffs a laugh; Kurt digs a knuckle hard into a knotted muscle until the laugh turns to a sigh. “Brighter than your brother, definitely.”

“You liked my brother,” Blaine protests, groaning lowly while Kurt massages.

“I did,” Kurt agrees. He bends down until his mouth is in line with Blaine’s ear, and strokes both hands down Blaine’s sides. “I like you, more.”

Blaine sighs and melts down into the mattress while Kurt kneads his back, until he’s drooling and half asleep, and Kurt’s hands are aching with the motions. He lies down next to Blaine, one hand still stroking Blaine’s cheek, until he gets a sleepy smile.

“I’m going to stay until you’re asleep,” Kurt tells him quietly. “Then I’m going to go home. But you’ll know where I am, right? You’ll know I’m only a phone call away.”

Blaine nods, and slides his fingers into Kurt’s hand, half-smiling with his eyes closed. “Love you,” he says, and Kurt squeezes his hand, holding on until Blaine is completely asleep.

Then he leaves a note, and some water, and turns off the light, and drives home with a smile on his face.

 

***

 

Blaine texts him at four in the morning, when he wakes up and drinks the water. Kurt hears the chirp and unlocks his phone, already sitting up.

B: you’re a really great boyfriend. In case you were wondering.

K: thank you. I make an effort. Now go back to sleep.

B: yes sir.

K: don’t call me sir. Not yet.

B: goodnight, Kurt.

K: goodnight, baby.

 

***

 

“How do you feel about Smythe?”

“The weasel? I still hate him,” Kurt replies, rubbing the gel out of Blaine’s hair, strand by strand.

“No, I mean—as a safe word. I think—well, I thought it would sufficiently kill the mood.” Blaine turns around to look at him, half-apologetic. “Do you mind? I can change, it if you want. Vatican cameo is always an option.”

Kurt laughs, and kisses him softly. “Of course I don’t mind. Your safe word is yours. It needs to be entirely about you. If that’s what you chose, I’m happy.”

Blaine beams, leaning in for a kiss that quickly turns hot and long, his hands sliding up Kurt’s thighs. Kurt grins into the kiss and wraps his hands around Blaine’s wrists, stopping him from going any farther.

“I like the way this feels,” Kurt purrs, his mouth inches away from Blaine’s, and Blaine’s breath hitches. “Your wrists fit just right in my fingers, they’re perfect. They’re gorgeous, just like you.” He lifts one to his mouth, then the other, brushing kisses over Blaine’s pulse. “I bet, though, they’d look even prettier above your head. Don’t you think?”

Blaine nods, a little helplessly, and takes in a deep breath. “Yeah, I. Yeah.”

Kurt kisses him again, smiling, and squeezes his wrists. “Okay. Good. How about you take off your shirt—wouldn’t want to have to cut your clothes off later.”

Blaine shivers. Noticeably. Kurt arches an eyebrow and files that one away, before lifting his hands up to Blaine’s bow tie. It’s nice when Blaine freezes, and lets Kurt carry on; he didn’t even have to be told.

“Good,” Kurt breathes, without noticing. Blaine smiles while Kurt works on him—unbuttons his shirt and slides off the tie, murmuring all the while. Blaine preens under the attention, humming when Kurt finally ties his hands up to the headboard, in a secure, comfortable knot. “I practiced this when I went home last night,” Kurt tells him. “I wanted to get it just right, so we can be as safe as possible. I’m going to give you the end of the scarf, Blaine. If you safeword out, and you always can, you can set yourself free.” He kisses the tip of Blaine’s nose. “But that’s not what you want right now, is it?”

“No,” Blaine whispers. “No, I want—I want you.”

“You can have me,” Kurt says, matter of factly. “As long as you’re good. Are you going to be good?”

“Yes,” Blaine sighs, and he’s rewarded with a long, sweet kiss.

“Good boy. Now try to stay still.”

 

***

 

By prom, though, Blaine looks… _itchy_. He fidgets with his bow ties more than usual, and he’s been spending more time in the gym, punching things. Kurt can tell when he gets like that—and it’s no wonder, after Chandler and everything, that they need something else. Something new.

The night before prom Blaine stays over. Burt’s given specific permission for them to stay in the same bed, even, as long as the door stays open and there’s no “funny business.” Burt and Carole, however, sleep like logs, and so Kurt and Blaine can stay up late with the moonlight coming through the window, holding hands and watching each other.

“Stop staring at me,” Blaine says, teasing. “It’s creepy.”

“You stop staring,” Kurt retorts, and presses forward for a kiss. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Last year was nerves. Now I’m just excited. It’s nice to be part of the gang for real.”

Kurt brushes the curls off of Blaine’s forehead. “You know you’re mine, don’t you? That makes you part of the gang, as you said, regardless of where you go to school.”

“Am I yours, Kurt?”

The question makes Kurt pause, takes him a moment to answer. “Baby—of course you are. Do you not—do you not feel like you are? Do you need—do you want something else?” A flash of that first night appears in Kurt’s mind, Blaine’s upturned face and the bow tie around his neck. He swallows, takes a deep breath, and whispers. “Would you let me collar you?”

Blaine’s reaction is faster than anything Kurt even remotely expected, surging towards Kurt’s body and burying his face in Kurt’s shoulder. He gloms onto every part of Kurt he can reach, pressing up until they’re skin to skin. Kurt drifts a hand over the nape of Blaine’s neck and Blaine shivers, openmouthed, a hot puff of air over Kurt’s chest. Kurt grips him there and feels the muscles relax, everything in Blaine’s body just letting go. “Yes,” Blaine finally says, in Kurt’s arms, with Kurt’s hand on his neck. “Yes, I would let you—I want that.”

“Are you sure? You can still say no, Blaine, you can always say no. I would never take that choice away from you.”

Blaine’s hands tighten in Kurt’s shirt, and he pushes his head up for a kiss. “Kurt, I wouldn’t say yes if I didn’t mean it. Maybe, though—we can take it on a day by day basis? To see how we feel?”

“Of course, baby. I could—we could use your ties, in place of something more official. And they blend in—nobody would have to know but us, what they meant. Do you want to start tomorrow?”

Blaine tucks his face into Kurt’s neck and hums. “Yes. I want that. I love you, Kurt.”

“I love you too, baby. Now go to sleep.”

 

***

 

They’re ten minutes from having to go downstairs, for pictures with Finn and Rachel and a thousand beaming hugs from Burt and Carole, when Kurt picks up Blaine’s bow tie.

“Are you ready?” he asks, breathing deep, into the weight of the moment. “You can put it on yourself, if you like.”

Blaine shakes his head and slowly sinks to one knee. “I want you to do it.”

It’s gorgeous, this moment of reverence, Blaine’s face up and his eyes closed, in all his prom finery. Kurt adores him more than ever in this moment, this surrender—he’s so fucking proud of Blaine, of his boy, that it takes him a minute to even put the tie on.

When he finally does, though, wow. “I want to take a picture of you just like this, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt whispers. “I want to take a picture of you and keep it forever, never show anyone, because I don’t want to share this moment. This is mine, Blaine. You are _mine_.” He leans, kisses Blaine’s upturned mouth. “You may stand.”

It sits on Blaine’s shoulders beautifully, the tie, the belonging. Kurt squeezes his hand in promise, and Blaine looks at him with such gratitude it almost knocks Kurt over. “I love you,” Blaine says, voice low and thick, eyebrows knitted.

“I love you,” Kurt replies, kissing him deep, hands on Blaine’s lapels. “Now go downstairs, and if you’re good all night, I’ll give you a reward.”

“Yes sir,” Blaine breathes, and Kurt smiles. He can’t wait for what happens when Blaine isn’t always so good.


End file.
